Love Stories 5: Buy Me Flowers
A friend challenged me to write a story a day for seven days, on love. I’m going to post one a day.
“Would you buy me flowers?” she asked.
“The rotting sexual organs of angiosperm plants?”
“Yes,” she replied, with a slight frown.
Bzzztt. <recalibrating>
“Of course I’d buy you flowers, miss. I love you.”
“You only love me because you’re programmed to,” she said, scornfully.
Bzzztt. <recalibrating>
“Even if that wasn’t true, there’s so much I adore about you. There’s no-one I’d rather be in love with than you.”
“Hmph,” she said, softening a little.
Bzzztt.
“What is it you like about… flowers, miss?”
“Oh,” she said, perking up, “I love how they look. How they smell. They connect me with nature, with beauty. They make me feel loved.”
“Well miss, I would certainly want that.”
“Yes,” she replied, with a suspicious frown.
Bzzztt.
“All I want to know is how to love you better, miss.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
“And for you to feel good.”
“You do make me feel good,” she murmured.
“Then I’m happy.”
“So will you buy me flowers?”
“Of course miss. One small question.”
“Sure,” she whispered blissfully, “anything.”
“UserA, what is your name and address?”
